So, I was talking to the indie rock fanatics at school recently about good live shows, and I namedropped a few that I knew they'd recognize to bring them into my world of general agreement. Then, to finally win them over, I said, "I've heard that the Mates of State are great live." Bam! I'd dropped a big one on them: an obscure, somewhat local band they'd never heard of, that they were sure to love, and that they would be able to thank me for after hearing them. Smooth move. "Really? Do they play around here? What are they like?" The obligatory follow-up questions. My response: "Well, they're a two-person line-up... organ and drums, a girl and a boy..."

And just as quickly as I'd won them over, they turned against me. "That sounds like Quasi. Quasi rip-offs!" I pleaded with them to hear my side: "No, not at all, really! They're nothing like each other!" But to no avail. They walked away laughing, leaving the phrase, "They can't be as good as Quasi!" echoing repeatedly in my ears. I was hurt. Permanently scarred. Traumatized.

So I'd like to think of this as my therapy review. Sure, the Mates of State have a similar line-up to Quasi. And yeah, they make irresistible pop music, too. But that's it! The similarities end there! So now that you've read this far, why not continue, even if it's only out of pity? The healing can now begin.

Mates of State are a pop duo based in San Francisco. They are half-male and half-female. Their halves are named Kori Gardner and Jason Hammel. And as luck would have it, they are, shall we say, romantically entangled. Gardner rhapsodizes vocally (as well as through her Yamaha organ) while Hammel simultaneously shares vocal duties and masterfully handles the many tempo changes on his drumsticks. Meanwhile, the mood of the record, whether it be bittersweet or rapturous, is solely melodically based, with carefree and nonsensical lyrics accompanying.

The Mates of State's debut album, My Solo Project, has two key elements. The first is the gleeful, sincere enthusiasm. There's more of it here, in true and genuine form, than could be located on any co-ed high school cheerleading squad. The duo's vocals explode harmonizing into the air, and though these two aren't the best singers in the world, they want to sing and they're gonna sing, damnit! The most sincere moment here comes with "Everyone Needs an Editor," when they each trade off singing the lines, "I color the sky with you/ I let you choose the blue." You can hear their eyes meet in a gaze of gory love. At times, Gardner and Hammel almost seem like they're trying to surpass each other and miss the note, and these moments stand out-- a few even border on cringe-worthy. But when the awkwardness passes, we forgive the smitten couple anyway because they're so damn cute.

The second key element is the song structure. Each song has multiple parts, and they're each virtually always in a different key, with a different hook, in a different tempo. These hooks could easily have stood on their own, but that didn't satisfy these Mates. Instead, they chose to pack each song with the punch of two or three, playing with your expectations. On "What I Could Stand For," they sing the lovely refrain of "And I won't pass you by" the traditional four times, until the music comes to a dead halt and briefly pauses before they reiterate for emphasis and move on to the third part of the song.

This 12-track album basically only has 10 songs. The first and last are total throwaways. Thankfully, they're at the beginning and end, and don't disturb the flow. But it makes one wonder why they're included. The first track is a 50 second cover of... the "Cheers" theme song, sung by a relative of Gardner's on a boombox when she was in her early teens. Badly, I might add. It's the same basic deal with the closer; trust me, you don't need to hear about it. But aside from these easily avoided blunders, My Solo Project manages to remain consistently high in quality within its tight 34-minute length. It's unique, fun, and worth your time. And it certainly sounds nothing like Qu--

-Spencer Owen